


The Next Great Adventure

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-28
Updated: 2006-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry has a chat with an old friend and learns that he is ready for another adventure.





	The Next Great Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: **Warnings** : Character deaths. But not in a bad way. Trust me. Also may contain _**theories**_ that contradict someone's religious beliefs. (In other words, you've been warned – don't flame me.)  
 **A/N:** I don't know where this came from, but it was bouncing around in my head during my mini-vacation and the muse wanted it written. It's way longer than I wanted it to be. I edited out 1000 words.  


* * *

Clinging to the sensation of sitting on his Firebolt and soaring towards the ground in a wild chase to catch the Snitch, Harry awoke carrying the scene from his most recent dream with him. As the exhilaration of youth and the freedom to use his body as he wished faded back into his dreams, he waited for the reality of his aches and pains to kick in, but they didn't come.

In the seconds before opening his eyes, his instincts, fine-tuned after years of an Auror's life, told him that his bed was smaller than it should be, softer than it was when he went to sleep, and the sounds of the city that greeted him every morning were replaced with the stillness of the country.

It was all obviously still a dream. There was no mistaking where he had woken up. It was his old room at Hogwarts. Still the same as it was when he first saw it over a century ago.

Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and smiled. Hedwig blinked at him from the windowsill.

"Hi, girl," he greeted his pet who had left him for death so long ago that he had lost count of the years.

She hooted and flew over, perching herself on his knee.

"You're still beautiful," Harry whispered, stroking her feathers that felt as soft as he remembered and strangely real and unlike they had in all of his past dreams over the decades. "I've missed you."

Harry froze at the sight of his hand – his young, spot- and wrinkle-free hand. As he turned to look at himself in the wardrobe mirror, Hedwig gently nipped his finger and flew back to the window.

He hadn't really thought about it, but if he had, he would've imagined that he looked like he did at Hogwarts, small and scrawny with glasses far too big for his face, but he didn't. He looked like he did when he was in his late-twenties, tall, sturdy, masculine, and much more handsome than he had thought he was then.

Staring at the image of his younger self, he ran his hand through his black hair, marveling at how silky it felt in comparison to the wiry and course gray hair he had when he went to bed the night before.

His legendary scar was gone too. But that wasn't a surprise. His life had been filled with that wish and with the reality that it could only happen in his dreams.

Hedwig hooted, trying to get Harry's attention. He joined her at the window and peered outside. He wasn't surprised to see brilliant blue skies, vibrant green grass, and Dumbledore, looking healthier than the last time he had seen him alive, striding across the grounds towards the castle.

What was a dream about Hogwarts without Professor Dumbledore?

Dumbledore looked up at the window and waved. Harry nodded and felt his insides swell with anticipation as he looked forward to a visit with an old friend. And Harry knew just where they were going to meet.

It was _his_ dream after all.

Harry took his time strolling through the still castle. The halls were empty; even the occupants of the portraits were missing, and instead of giving the castle an eerie sensation, it gave him the feeling that it was here just for him, that it was here to welcome him home.

Harry's bare feet made no sound as he walked though the halls. He relished in the feeling of knees that worked and joints that didn't creak, and when he was only one long hall away from his destination, he decided to sprint just because he could. Soon he would wake up and, at his best, only be able to work up to a saunter around his flat.

Barely out of breath, Harry reached the entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Sherbet lemon," Harry shouted, and the gargoyle furled and unfurled its stone wings before it leapt aside.

Harry's stomach dropped, but his heart lifted as he moved up the spiral staircase. He almost forgot that all of this was just his old mind playing tricks on him, showing him things that he missed but would never have again.

"Professor," Harry called out as he opened the door and stepped inside.

The office looked exactly as it had when Dumbledore had occupied it. He had visited it many times when it belonged to the Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and her successor and his best friend, Hermione Granger, and he always thought that it had lost some of its charm under their well-organized hands.

"Harry."

Harry turned toward the voice to see Dumbledore approaching him from across the room.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry said warmly.

"Harry – Harry," said Dumbledore, extending his arms. "We're old friends. You're more than a grown man. Albus, please."

Dumbledore hugged him, patting him fondly on the back.

"Let me look at you," Dumbledore said, pulling back and holding onto Harry's shoulders. "I have longed to see you as a man."

"This isn't quite my normal look," Harry responded jovially. "Actually, I look much more like you everyday."

"I'm sure that is true. Time is a beautiful thing as it moves along, even if it steals your outward beauty with it. And my, you were a handsome man!"

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Old habits are hard to break."

"Sorry." Harry smiled. "Do you – do you mind if I didn't call you Albus? I – for so many years – it's just good to –"

"I understand."

"Thank you. It is good to see you."

"Sit, please," Dumbledore instructed, motioning towards two chairs by the fire. "We have many things to chat about it."

Harry sat and looked around the room, noticing the differences. The portraits here, as in the rest of the castle, were empty. Fawkes' perch, the Sorting Hat, and Godric Gryffindor's sword were also gone.

Dumbledore followed Harry's eyes and responded to the unspoken question. "They have business elsewhere."  
  
"It's strange, is all. This being a dream," Harry replied.

"Dreams are normally strange," Dumbledore agreed. "Tell me, Harry, have you had a good life?"

If Harry had been a younger man, he would've been surprised at being asked that question first without any preface, but age had taught him the importance of time and not wasting any of it.

"I accomplished great things," Harry admitted. "I defeated two powerful, dark wizards, the first wizard to do that twice in a lifetime."

"Alas, you surpassed your teacher," Dumbledore said with pride. "I always knew you were destined to be a great wizard. But what about as a person? Were you happy?"

"I had great friends and two beautiful children - a son, Gabriel, and a daughter, Daphne. I was a good father, but I have to admit that I failed miserably as a husband. My first wife, Victoria, I…we were young. I was mourning Ginny and she seemed to love me, so…"

Harry paused, wondering if he was saying too much. Dumbledore nodded encouragingly, so Harry continued. "And my second wife, that was a poor choice from the beginning. Everyone, especially Ron, tried to warn me that she was only after my fame, but I didn't listen. My third –"

"Oh, my!" Dumbledore cried.

Harry felt the tips of his ears burn, but he went on. "My third wife died shortly after the birth of our second child."

"You raised the children on your own?"

Harry shook his head. "Ron moved in with me to help. Hermione lent a hand when she could.

"Marianne, my third wife, she was a good woman, but I'm afraid that she wasn't very happy with me either. After that, I decided that I was best on my own. True love wasn't for me."

"That saddens me deeply, Harry. You gave so much to the world and it seems as if you took nothing back for yourself."

"I… I thought it would be easier," Harry said as if that thought had just occurred to him.

"Easier?"

"Yes, sir. After Voldemort. I thought life would be perfect when he was gone. That it would – would just happen." Harry shrugged. "Strange that suddenly it has become very clear that I didn't _make_ things happen."

"Not strange at all. Not strange at all," Dumbledore said, grinning.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, but Dumbledore only changed the subject. "How about a spot of tea?"

Waving his hand over a small table, Dumbledore conjured a teapot and two cups. He leaned over the edge of his seat to carefully prepare the tea. After handing a steaming cup to Harry, Dumbledore settled back in his chair and sipped at his tea.

"I don't want you to think that I had a horrible life," Harry said. "My children brought me loads of happiness. And there were Hermione and Ron."

Unexpected tears sprang to his eyes; it had been an awfully long time since he had lost Ron. It shouldn't hurt this bad, but the pain and loss felt as fresh as it had on the darkest day in Harry's life.

"Ah, Ron and Hermione. Shall I say that they were your family?"

"Yes," Harry answered in a pained voice. "They never married each other as I had expected. Hermione did great things. Truly more than I ever did. She's quite happy now. Retired and living with her husband in France."

"And Ron?"

Harry lowered his eyes and smiled as a picture of his friend's face flashed in his mind. "His accomplishments were less noticeable to the public, but not to those that were close to him."

"Especially to you?"

"Hermione had her own life. She was my best friend," Harry said, feeling the need to explain that because of what he was about to say. "But Ron was always there for me. No matter what. I reckon that's why he never married at all. He was too busy taking care of me."

Dumbledore stared at him and Harry knew that he was searching for something in his face. A sign of something. Of honesty – maybe? But Harry had been honest. More honest than he had been with himself.

"Harry, what is the last thing that you remember?"

Harry thought about this and found the question unexpectedly difficult to answer.

Finally, he recalled lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. "I was thinking about the visit that I had from my grandson Nicholas."

"Was it a nice visit?"

"Yes. He's grown into a fine young man," Harry said proudly. "He was Head Boy here _and_ Quidditch captain. Not a Seeker though. He was a brilliant Keeper. It made his Uncle Ron very, very proud. Now he's a Healer at St. Mungo's."

"I'm sure that he is," Dumbledore remarked. "You don't remember anything else after that?"

"Should I?"

"Probably best that you don't." Dumbledore took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I've always regretted that I didn't tell you things… Well, sooner than I did. So, I am going to be forward with you."

Out of habit, from many years of having Dumbledore deliver horrible news, Harry's heart leapt into his throat.

"Harry, you are not dreaming. When you went to sleep, you never woke. This, my dear, dear old friend, is the next step in your journey."

Harry stared at him. _Dead. Is he telling me that I'm dead?_ His insides uncurled and he relaxed. That really wasn't so horrible at all. He was only slightly shocked really. He had been ready for quite some time. Though Hermione was always a tried and true friend, she had her own life, and he had been lonely for so long.

And here was Dumbledore, someone he had missed for so long. If Dumbledore was here then maybe….

Bolting upright, Harry looked at Dumbledore wide-eyed. "Dumbledore, are – are my parents here?"

"Regretfully, I must tell you no," Dumbledore responded glumly.

His spirits deflated. He had waited for this for so long, believing that this would be when he could finally be reunited with his family.

"Where are they then? You're here. So, who else is here? Is -"

"I will explain it all," Dumbledore interrupted. "That is why I am here."

Harry touched the arm of the chair, suspecting that his hand might go through it, wondering if he was a ghost. "Where is here?"

"I see age has not changed your desire for information."

Dumbledore smiled at him so warmly with his eyes so full of love that Harry couldn't help but laugh and sit back, giving a slight nod that wordlessly said, _'I'll be patient.'_

"Some of this will be hard for you to understand," Dumbledore began. "You're still thinking like you did before you crossed over. This is necessary, of course. Understanding everything all at once would be too much, too soon."

"This here –" Dumbledore waved his hands, motioning all around him "- is sort of a crossover point. A purgatory you can call it, if you are so inclined to do so. The soul must stop here first before going back or moving on."

"Going back?" asked Harry. "Like reincarnation?"

"Exactly like that! I knew you would catch on quickly," he replied proudly. "The soul must be ready to move on beyond here because the next move is permanent. Often, the soul and the mind –"

"But the mind is a part of your body. Is my body real? How can I have a mind if this is just my soul?"

"It is true that your brain is part of your body. But your thoughts, your emotions, your desires all become ingrained in your soul. To answer your question, yes, you are real. This is another form for another place, but you are very much real. It seems that our souls have been in these vessels –" He pounded his chest "- for far too long. They like it too much and it's not an easy thing for them to leave behind."

Harry thought about this for a moment and had to admit that he was quite happy in this _vessel_. It felt entirely too good to be young again.

"So, I've lived before. I've been someone other than Harry Potter?"

"You have. Your soul has been around for quite a long time."

Intrigued by this notion, Harry forgot his promise to be patient. "Really?" Who was I?"

"Many, many interesting people, I imagine. You will remember them all eventually if – oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. I see that even though you do try, patience is not one of your virtues."

"But this is… I mean to say… How can I _not_ ask questions? This is amazing! Tell me, please, what is moving on? Is that _heaven_?"

Reaching over, Dumbledore patted Harry's knee. "I've missed you all of these years, Harry. I did not have many regrets in my life, but leaving you was one of the few. I am very much enjoying seeing you again."

Harry felt a flood of emotions at Dumbledore's words. Dumbledore had left behind enough things to explain why he had planned his death, but Harry had never been able to shake the feeling of being abandoned.

Smiling back, he placed a hand over his mentor's hands and a few wounds healed.

"Thank you, sir. I missed you, too. There were so many times –" His voice cracked and he had to begin again. "There were so many times I would've fancied a visit with you. Especially when I was feeling lost."

" _Lost_. I'm sorry you felt that way so often in your life, especially since happiness was there for you, if you were brave enough to grasp it. You were brave, Harry. Too brave. A Gryffindor in every way, saving all those who needed to be saved, except when it came to saving yourself."

Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore settled back in his chair and continued, "I will answer your question now. Heaven is a complex word. Our souls have become tainted by the world we have lived in for so long. They enjoy the physical feelings that they receive from the emotional ones. They are addicted to it. The soul needs time to adapt, to rid itself of the insecurities and pain that go along with being in a human form. It needs to be surrounded and comforted with only happiness. And when it is ready, it can move on to what you call a _heaven_ , which isn't a place or anything physical. It's very difficult to explain, but I have faith that it is total bliss."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry pondered this. "Why would some go back then?"

"Excellent question! Some of us reach this point, where you are now, and don't feel complete. What is offered to them as a choice seems frightening and unattainable. Going back, being human again, is too great of a temptation. Maybe they died young or before what they thought was their time, so they choose –"

"My parents!" Harry exclaimed. "Did they go back?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they did. The way in which James and Lily died left them unable to consider any other possibilities."

"Where are they now?"

"Now." Dumbledore repeated the word a few times. "Time is different here. Now for you and I isn't now for them. And I really don't know the answer to that question. I am sorry about that."

"I understand," Harry replied, though he really didn't. "So, I have a choice. A chance to go back."

"Choices are important. It's what separates us from other beings. Hedwig, as an example, she didn't have a choice. She belonged to you and you alone. She didn't have a choice but to remain here and wait for you. Yes, you have been granted the choice to go back."

"Granted? Isn't everyone given that choice?"

"Ah, another brilliant question!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "No, they are not. Only the souls that are deserving of that choice at their time of death are given it. Life as you knew it was a test. A test of your free will and how you used or abused your talents. Voldemort is the best example. He was not given a choice. He was reborn again into a new life. In the simplest terms, he had failed the test."

"But – but that's horrible! To send him back to do… do all of those horrendous things again!" Harry's voice grew louder as his anger grew. "Who would do that? Who's in charge of all of this?"

"I understand your concern. It is a valid one. I shall try to explain the best that I can. I do not know who is in charge of all this. But I have been assured that though the soul does take an imprint of its former self with it to its new life, and there is a strong pull to follow the same path, it is still all about choices. Voldemort's soul has the same chance as everyone else to be a good, or at the very least, a decent person in his new life."

Putting what he had just learned aside, Harry wanted to know more about this choice to return. "Will I have a choice as to who I am if I go back?"

Slapping his knee, Dumbledore cried, "I know you would ask that!" He gave Harry a look and quickly added, "No."

"No?"

"No. Totally random! Makes the choice a tad more interesting – don't you think?" Dumbledore said, visibly excited by the idea.

"Yes, I suppose," Harry answered dryly.

"I know what you are thinking." Dumbledore shook a finger at him. "Voldemort is no longer your concern. Please, I must impose on you that this choice is truly the time for you to be selfish and think only for your own happiness."

Harry began to feel anxious; he stood and walked over to the window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. He gasped. There were players on the field.

"They like to come here to play," Dumbledore said, now right behind him. "I often watch them from this window."

"And my other choice?"

"To stay here and prepare your soul to move on." Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's a difficult choice, but there is no wrong answer."

Harry turned back to face Dumbledore and leaned back against the windowsill. "So others are here? Are they preparing themselves, waiting to move on?"

"Yes."

"How long does it take?"

"It is different for each soul. Some souls can move right on. Remember the Mirror of Erised, Harry? Yes, I'm sure that you do. The soul that could look into the mirror and see only its own image would enter into that state of what you call heaven immediately. But for most of us, the soul must rest here and unburden itself with all of the pain, guilt, sorrow, insecurities, and whatever else weighs it down."

"And how is that done?"

"That is also different for each one of us and not always easy."

Harry thought about this for a moment before answering. "I'm going to guess that this is something I need to figure out on my own."

"So bright. Always one step ahead of me. Your mind is clearer here. Some of the constraints that you put on yourself while you were alive are going to help you make the decision that is best for you."

A comfortable silence followed as Harry pondered everything that he had just heard. Dumbledore took his seat again as Harry walked around the room gazing into crystal balls, spinning an antique looking top, opening gleaming gold boxes, until he felt the need to speak aloud.

"Going back there… I really can't say that I have many regrets. Except I…."

"Except you never found love?"

"I did," Harry said, voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that, Harry?"

"I did," he responded louder. "I did. It was just with the wrong person."

Dumbledore looked appalled. "How could love ever be wrong?"

"I was young. Young and stupid," Harry said.

Harry waited for Dumbledore to correct him, to say that he wasn't stupid, but Dumbledore said nothing.

"You have to understand, sir," Harry said pleadingly as he sat back down across from Dumbledore. "I didn't know anyone in that sort of a relationship. At least no wizard. I thought it was something that was in my Muggle blood. And then there was his family… how could I, after Ginny? He wouldn't have wanted…."

"And you gave him that choice?"

"No, I didn't." Harry felt the need to explain further. He needed to tell someone - finally. "I didn't realize until after my first marriage fell apart. Ron took me away. To the beach. He rented this great cottage. We spent a week there. I realized it then."

Harry stopped and took a moment to remember a scene from that week - a simple, quiet one, just him and Ron on the beach at dusk. Ron laying on his back with his knees bent, digging his toes and fingers into the sand. Harry sitting next to him, hugging his knees against his chest as he watched the waves roll in, acutely aware of Ron's body so close to his.

He had known then and the desire to reach over and to touch Ron was so strong that it came through now, decades later, past all of the emotional barriers that Harry had put up, and it struck him so hard that his hands shook and the bridge of his nose brunt with caged-in tears.

"Ten months after that I married for the second time." When Dumbledore looked at him questioningly, Harry responded, "I just wanted to lead a normal life." _Merlin, how stupid does that sound!_ he thought immediately after.

"But after Marianne passed on, Ron was there with you, helping you raise the children – were you happy then?"

"Happy? Sort of. Happier than I had ever been.

"He… he was there for me every single day of my life since I was eleven years old. And I took him for granted. I always thought that we'd have another day. Whenever I had one of those feelings, the ones that I thought were so wrong, I'd tell myself that I'd deal with them tomorrow. He died fifty-four years ago. He was too young, only fifty-six. He had an undetected heart disease. Runs in pureblood families. I was the one who found him. In his bed." Harry looked up from the spot on the floor he had been staring at as he recounted Ron's death and met Dumbledore's eyes. "I never thought that a heart that big could stop beating. Everything… Nothing was ever the same after he was gone."

A montage of images flashed through Harry's mind – him and Ron taking Gabriel to buy his first broom, traveling with Daphne to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on her first day at Hogwarts, setting up their tent at the Quidditch World Cup the year that England won, and a variety of other scenes of their life together, including when he crawled into bed with Ron's cold body, knowing that soon someone would be coming to take him away forever.

Harry chuckled, but it was hollow laugh, lacking of any humor. "Want to know something funny? Well, not really _funny_ , ironic really. After Ron died, at the funeral, everyone assumed that we were in a relationship. Even Hermione! Even our – my children!"

Dumbledore looked at him seriously or more seriously than he normally did. "But, Harry, you were in a relationship. Don't you see that now?"

"Yeah, I reckon that we were," said Harry softly. "Er, without, well, the – the touching part."

Dumbledore scratched his nose, failing to hide the wicked smile behind his hand. "Well, yes, I do believe that is one of the things of which I spoke earlier. The soul does so crave… the _touching_ part."

"I was a fool," Harry stated solemnly.

"You were human," corrected Dumbledore. He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling. "Do you know what helps me to think better?"

"Candy?" Harry quipped.

Dumbledore's laughter bounced off the stone walls. "Yes, that often helps. But I was thinking of a pleasant walk around the grounds. I think it will help you mull things over."

"That sounds brilliant," Harry agreed, looking out the window at the beautiful day.

The castle was still quiet and the pair walked in silenced, letting Harry's thoughts drift back to his life. He agreed that the temptation to return was great. A chance to try again. To be someone else. Maybe he'd have parents and brothers and sisters.

The day was even more beautiful than it had looked from inside. The sun warmed his skin and then immediately a light, cool breeze feathered over it.

Dumbledore led him towards the pitch and Harry hoped that the match was still going on.

Would he be a wizard? Maybe his new life would be perfectly, outstandingly _normal_. No prophecies, no magic, no adventures.

And that didn't sound very interesting at all.

The pitch grew closer and he was disappointed to see that the players had left.

"Sir, if I stay here because I wanted to be with Ron, because he's the one thing that would make my soul feel complete, what happens if he isn't here? What would happen to me?"

Dumbledore stopped. "Do you think that you would've made that choice if you thought that Ron wasn't going to be here?"

"Wha –" The word stuck in Harry's throat as his eyes raked over the pitch. He'd know that hair anywhere. Resting a leg on a bleacher, removing a shin guard, was Ron, looking as young and as perfect as Harry.

"But, Professor," Harry looked at Dumbledore in shock. "I didn't make a choice."

"Didn't you?"

He had. Before they had even left the castle, he had made the choice when he remembered the night that Ron died. When he remembered how he had wanted to lie there until he himself died so he could be with Ron again.

"I… Is this… Can I…?"

"What are you waiting for, Harry?" Dumbledore grabbed his shoulder and pushed him forward. "Go."

Harry walked slowly, until Ron turned his back, not noticing Harry and started walking the other way.

"Ron!" Harry cried out.

Ron froze for a second before spinning around and standing still, right there, in front of Harry, in his Chudley Cannons Quidditch robes, looking beautiful and exactly the way he did the day that Harry realized he was in love with him. Ron walked steadily towards Harry and soon they were standing a few inches apart.

Harry didn't know who opened their arms first or who stepped closer to whom; the only thing he knew was that Ron's warm arms were around him. It was friendly at first, Ron patting him on the back, muttering how good it was to see him. But Ron's hand soon ran up Harry's back and his thumb and forefinger massaged Harry's neck in a tender, loving touch.

"I've missed you so much," Harry whispered before pulling back so that he could move in again and smash their lips together.

Harry's kiss was frantic, needy, and a bit too desperate. But Ron knew what to do; he held Harry's face in his hands, steadying him, and changed the kiss, slowing it down, making it meaningful.

After what seemed like a lifetime, or at least the amount of time it would take to pour out a lifetime full of emotion, Ron released Harry's lips, but didn't let go of his face.

"You chose to stay," he said.

"You waited for me," Harry replied. "All these years. You waited here for me."

"Of course I did, you prat!"

Harry leaned forward, resting his forehead on Ron's shoulder. "I'm so stupid. So fucking stupid."

Stepping back, Ron forced Harry's head off his shoulder. He crooked a finger under Harry's chin. "I was stupid too. I _knew_. I knew for years. I was too insecure to tell you. I thought if I did and you didn't, then things would change and I would've lost you."

"We're together now. Right? That's what Dumbledore said." Harry turned around to look for Dumbledore, but he was gone. "Where – is he gone?"

"Don't worry. He's at Hogwarts. He's always there." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and intertwined their fingers. "You can see him anytime."

"I have so many more questions."

Ron squeezed Harry's hand. "I know. It's strange at first, but you get used to it. It's brilliant, really! Mum is going to be so excited to see you! She knew that you'd be coming soon."

"Your Mum is here?" Harry asked, his voice breaking. A few tears ran down his cheeks and he wiped them away. "Bugger!"

"It's okay, Harry. Blimey, when I first got here, I suspect I cried for ten hours straight! Mum loved it though. Kept chattering on about having her baby boy back."

"And your Dad?"

Ron nodded.

"I can't wait to see them."

"We can go now? They are at the Burrow. Imagine that! They could have any home they want, but here they are still living at the Burrow! Or we could stay here and have a race around the pitch? Or we could go home?"

"Home? Where's home?"

"Remember the beach house. The one we rented after –"

"Of course," Harry interrupted.

"I've been staying there."

Grabbing Ron's forearm, Harry said, "Home. I need more of this _touching_!"

"Touching, aye?" Ron said, waggling his eyebrows.

It only took a few seconds to appear on the beach. Harry noted that the normal feeling of Apparition that he had always hated was gone.

He heard Hedwig hoot and spotted her sitting in an open window.

"She stays here," Ron said. "She's been waiting for you, too."

A need struck him again and Harry pressed his lips against Ron's. This time Harry let his hands roam over Ron's body, _touching_ him wherever he could. Harry could feel _all_ of Ron and his obvious arousal that was pressing into Harry's thigh.

When they broke apart, Ron's smile took up half of his face and Harry knew that his grin looked as silly.

"Dumbledore said that this wasn't heaven. I couldn't imagine it being anymore perfect."

With an affectionate touch, Ron ran his index finger along the sides of Harry's face. "Heaven?" He reached around, gripped Harry's arse and pulled him flush against his body. "Harry, you haven't seen anything yet!"

_Fin_


End file.
